3 Madness in Christmas River by Meg Muldoon Read Free Book Online Page A

them talking about the new deputy at one time or another. But as far as anyone knew, Owen McHale didn’t date, at least not any of the girls around here, much to their disappointment. There were rumors that he had a girlfriend back East, but all anyone could do was speculate.
    I, myself, never saw in him what they did. He just seemed like a cold fish to me. A cold, arrogant fish.  
    “I was hoping you could help me with something,” he said in a humorless voice as he stepped up to the porch.
    I gripped the collar of my robe and held it over my neck as a sharp wind scraped frost down from the roof.
    “Why don’t you come in for a cup of coffee?” I asked.
    “No thanks,” he said coldly.
    It was easy for him to say. He wasn’t standing outside in pajamas and a robe.
    “Well, what can I do for you?”
    “I was wondering what time you dropped Sheriff Brightman off at the airport this morning,” he said.
    I raised my eyebrows in surprise.
    “Well, we got there about 3:30 or so,” I said. “His flight left at 5.”
    “So that means you drove back through town about 4:15, is that right?”
    A car sped down the street behind him.
    “I suppose,” I said. “Is there a reason why that matters?”
    “Did you drive through downtown on your way back?” he asked.
    “Yes,” I said. “But I don’t understand why that—”
    “Did you see anything suspicious?”
    I thought back, trying to remember the way downtown looked at that early hour. Dark and cold and snowy. A ghost town, save for the blinking neon sign of the Christmas Coffee Hut.
    But then again, I wasn’t exactly paying attention to the way downtown looked. I had my mind on the cozy warmth of my bed at home.
    I shook my head.
    “I can’t recall anything that looked suspicious,” I said. “It was quiet and empty out. That’s all I remember. It was dark.”
    Deputy McHale nodded and scribbled something down in his leather notepad.
    “What’s all this about, anyway?” I asked. “Is everything all right?”
    He hesitated, like he was debating whether or not he was going to tell me.
    I got the impression that part of him liked keeping me in suspense. That he liked knowing something I didn’t know and holding it over me.
    Maybe that was a young cop thing. Or maybe it was just a Deputy McHale thing.
    I waited, growing impatient with every passing second until he finally said something. 
    “Someone’s done a number on the Christmas tree downtown,” he said. “We think it happened early this morning. Meadow Plaza looks like Christmas morning after the kids got to all the presents.”
    My mouth dropped a little in surprise.
    “Really?” I said. “But who would do something like that?”
    I knew the question sounded stupid and naïve, and, as Deputy McHale probably thought, very small-town. But I couldn’t help it. I was from a small town, and that was the first reaction of anybody who lived in a place with under 10,000 residents.
    “That’s what I’m trying to find out,” he said. “But you’re saying that you didn’t see anything when you passed through the city center this morning?”
    I thought back again, trying to remember anything that might be useful.
    I shrugged.
    “I’m sorry,” I said. “It was dark and I was tired. I didn’t see much, but it’s not like I was looking for anything either.”
    He nodded.
    “I suppose that makes sense,” he said.
    He put an extra emphasis on the I suppose part. It irritated me.
    I was about to say something snappy. While Daniel did like him, that didn’t mean I had to. And it certainly seemed to me that if I were a young deputy, I’d treat the bosses’ soon-to-be-wife with a little more courtesy.
    But before I could say anything, he interrupted me.
    “I’ve got to go,” he said, curtly. “If you remember anything, make sure to call. You have my number, right?”
    “Yeah, I’ll call the office,” I said. “Hey, aren’t there security cameras down there?”
    “The power went out